Attention To Detail
by AriMarvelUniverse
Summary: Fluffy drabbles for Dark!Slytherin!Harry and Hermione. Request based, don't be shy. Hermione notices certain quirks and secrets about her green eyed Slytherin, and little by little she unravels him. Ratings vary by chapter.
1. Scar

Everyone knew about Harry Potter's scar. It was impossible not to know.

His name was synonymous with the mark. For most people, saying his name called up an image of the scar before what he actually looked like. The scar was the first thing people looked at when they saw him. Their eyes would flicker to his hairline first, before even meeting his eyes or saying hello, as if to make sure it was really Harry Potter.

For the wizarding world it defined him. It told his story before he opened his mouth. It made people think that they knew everything about him just by looking at the strange marking, and Hermione knew that he hated it with a fiery passion.

She also knew that the scar was horribly ticklish.

She discovered the dirty little secret one night after they'd fallen asleep in their secret spot in the library. Hermione moved to kiss him gently on the forehead, and was surprised when he snorted in his sleep, lips curling up into a smile.

She grinned evily and pressed her lips to it again, rubbing the rough skin with her mouth. Harry shot awake, gasping and swatting at her.

"Don't do that again," he'd warned, with a glare that would make Salazar Slytherin feel warm and fuzzy inside.

"You're ticklish!" she laughed, delighted.

"Slytherin's aren't ticklish! I'M not ticklish! Don't do it again!"

It became her favorite way to torture him- peppering the lightning bolt scar with light, furious kisses until there were tears in his eyes and he was choking on his laughter.


	2. Hair

"Why do you do that?" Hermione asked, fitting a bookmark between the pages of the thick novel she was reading.

Beside her, Harry glanced up from the Snitch he'd knicked from the Quidditch pitch. "Do what?"

They had managed to find a quiet moment to themselves in the warm spring weather, lounging under the shade of a great oak by the lake edge. He was skipping out of Binns, and with some goading, charm, and blackmail, he had convinced her to join him.

"That," she repeated, as he lifted his hand to drag it through his hair, puffing up the unruly black stands even more than before.

Harry shrugged. "Dunno. Habit, I guess."

Hermione, being Hermione, didn't accept that vague answer. "But why?"

"It... I dunno Mione, Merlin. Why do you care?"

"People think it makes you look conceited." she told him bluntly. He frowned. "And I care why?"

"I know you don't. I just want to know, Harry. That's what I do; know things."

Harry sighed loudly and crammed the Snitch in his pocket. "It just... It covers it."

"Covers-"

"The scar." he mumbled. "It covers it. Keeps people from staring."

Hermione pursed her lips in thought. She exhaled and leaned gently against his arm. "It makes it more obvious when you do that, though." she whispered. "You shouldn't be ashamed of it."

"Hmph. Right."

"I'm serious," she huffed, poking his shoulder. "It's part of you. Hiding it won't make it go away." He glanced at her, but didn't say anything.

The next day, when she saw him in Transfiguration, his long bangs were cropped short. He turned away from her blinding smile with a grunt, but she giggled to herself at the flush on the back of his neck.


	3. Fingernails

Harry Potter hated long, perfectly manicured fingernails.

Hermione found that out a few weeks after she'd made a New Year's resolution to stop her nervous habit of biting her fingernails. She found a temporary charm for making things taste bad and cast it on her nails to stop herself from chewing on them.

He noticed immediately. She grabbed his hand one day, and he instantly let go, staring down at her fingers like they'd grown eyes. "What in the hell did you do to your nails?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and lifted her hands. Her fingernails were longer and filed to perfect ovals, and they gleamed with clear varnish. "I stopped chewing my nails. Why? Don't they look better?"

He shrugged. "I s'pose. I liked them better before."

"They were ragged and awful before!"

"Bitter, fake old hags have long fingernails, Hermione," he explained, stroking her knuckles absently. "Every ancient croaker that's ever tried to be my new best mate has long fingernails. My...my aunt had them, too. It's just...not you."

"Harry..." she was wavering, and he knew it. "It's a nasty habit."

"Cut them, then. But keep them short. For me? Please?" He glanced up at her through those long black lashes with those glowing green eyes, and she caved.

"You're impossible, you know that?"

"Yeah, I do."

(**A/N: Another one of mine. It's fun to write these, but you know what would be even more fun? *drumroll* Requests from you guys, out there! I promise I don't bite!...Hard!)**


	4. Blind

**A/N: If you're a reader of my other fic Conundrum, you might want to skip this chapter. It's a little bit of a spoiler LOLZ.)**

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Harry Potter was blind as a bat without his glasses.

Obviously, since he wore them, he had some sort of vision deficit. But Hermione didn't know just HOW blind he was until that summer before fourth year when he was staying at her house, and he lost his glasses after taking a shower.

She was downstairs, and the early morning quiet was shattered by the sound of him banging around and cursing up a storm.

"Harry?!"

"Hermione? OWCH!"

The next thing she knew, he was tumbling head over heels down the stairs, a tangle of wet hair and pale skin landing spectacularly on the front hall tile. Thank MERLIN his towel had managed to hang on.

"What are you ON?"

"...I can't find my glasses."

"So you fell down the stairs!?"

"I couldn't SEE the stairs! Who put them there- they weren't there before!"

"Oh yes, Harry, didn't I tell you? We moved the stairs."

"...I think you're being funny, but I can't see you rolling your eyes."


	5. Sick

**(A/N: Dang, you guys are shy, huh? Nothing! LOLZ ah well, I'll just keep doing my own until somebody gets brave enough. No worries :)**

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When he was healthy, it was like pulling teeth to get him to show affection. But when he was sick, Harry Potter was the world's biggest cuddler. He didn't seem to want to let Hermione go, ever.

It was endearing, and adorable, but sometimes it could be a little much.

"Harry," Hermione huffed, struggling to remove his weight. "Harry, let me up." They were on the couch in her living room, reading, and he'd started to doze off. He'd caught a small summer cold and she was trying to nurse him better the muggle way.

"Mmmnm..." he mumbled, sighing into her hair and tightening his hold. Cold shivers wracked his frame, "Warmmm..." She flinched when he sniffled wetly in her ear.

"Harry, come on, the tea is ready, just let me-"

"Nnngn!"

Hermione squeaked as he crushed her against his chest, nuzzling into her shoulder. After a second, she sighed, and stroked his forehead.

"Where's a camera when you need one...?"


	6. Sheets

Hermione shivered awake, glaring around her bedroom in the near pitch black. Her skin was thick with gooseflesh and her toes were so numb they just HAD to be black and frozen. Her teeth chattered, and she thought she could see her breath in front of her face.

She was COLD, but she hadn't started off that way.

She turned to look, and next to get in bed, Harry was bundled head to toe in HER blanket, warm and toasty as ever. She growled and snatched her side back, muttering tiredly about sneaky, cover stealing Slytherins.

Ten minutes later she was up and doing the same thing, in the same position.

Harry Potter was the world's biggest cover hog.


	7. Sweet

**(A/N: Excuse me while I unload all this sweet fluffy stuff. I need to get it out of my system before I write more angst and blood.)**

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**(This is one from when they're older, BTW.)**

Harry Potter had a sweet tooth the size of Hogwarts.

"Harry, love..." Hermione cooed sweetly, perching herself on the arm of the chair he was sitting in. He looked up, instantly suspicious at her sugary tone.

"Yeah, Mione?"

"Where's that treacle tart mum sent us? It's not in the fridge where I put it."

"I dunno...haven't seen it."

"Mm." She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips, which he returned after a small pause. She sucked on his bottom lip gently, but just as he was reaching for her she pulled away with a steely glint in her honey brown eyes.

"You're a liar and you're going out to get a new tart."

Harry smirked and crossed his arms, completely unabashed at being caught. "What gave me away?"

"You had chocolate on your mouth, you dirty git."


	8. Flying (iowa-tarheel)

**(A/N: This ones** **from**** iowa-tarheel, the first one brave enough to leave a request! *blows confetti, applause, applause* Gracias darling, gracias. Hope it's at least close to what you thought.)**

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She was going to die.

She, Hermione Jean Granger, muggleborn and proud, recent graduate of Hogwarts, was going to plummet a hundred feet to her death and break her neck and DIE.

She clung to Harry's back as tightly and closely as physics and anatomy would allow, with her face smushed into his neck and her fists buried in his clothes, muttering about how in the hell she'd let him talk her into this-

-and the broom wasn't even in the air yet. He, of course, was laughing his arse off at her, completely at ease. "Mione, come on. Don't you trust me?"

Yes, she did, she'd seen him on a broom before and knew that he was no amateur, far from it.

"It's the BROOM I don't trust."

It's a Firebolt! Stop being a chicken."

"I'm not a chicken! And yes, I've heard all that before, oooh, a Firebolt, I don't care! People aren't meant to be up that hiIIIIIGH HARRY HARRY NO NO MERLIN MERLIN OH GOD-"

The broomstick rocketed upwards before she could even realize it, leaving her stomach on the ground. Harry was laughing wildly, gleefully. He turned up sharply, and Hermione was too breathless and terrified to even scream.

'_He's mad. He's stark, raving, rabid mad and he's going to kill us both.' _She shut her eyes tight and begged silently for it to end.

"Mione. Mione, look." Harry was no longer laughing. His voice had gone gentle. He reached behind his back- _what was he steering the broom with?!-_ and slowly removed her hands from their death grips on his shirt.

"Look..."

Gasping, shaking, Hermione peeled her eyes open the smallest degree and peeped through her lids. She saw him first, his smirk and self confident face, calm and mocking. Behind him though...

The sun was halfway set behind the hills of the campground he'd taken herto, painting everything tones of bloody red, deep purple, and vibrant orange. The shadows stretched for miles, making the land look like an oil painting.

"Oh," she breathed, opening her eyes wide and forgetting her mortal terror. "It's beautiful... You see this all the time?"

"Mmhm." he sighed. He looked content, which was something rare... He looked carefree, easy, and relaxed like he never was on the ground. "There's nothing like flying." He glanced back at her and grinned, managing to make it look scandalous. "Well, almost nothing."

"Oh hush, you."


	9. Nose and Toes (iowa-tarheel)

**(A/N: iowa-tarheel again!)**

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In the winter, Hermione noticed two things about her green eyed snake.

When it was cold, and he was out in the air for more than ten minutes, his nose would turn bright, blaring pink, and stay that way for hours afterwards, even after the rest of his body returned to a normal colour. He hated it, and of course she thought it was hilarious.

"You look like Rudolph," she giggled.

"I'll pertrify you if you ever call me a reindeer again."

At night, that's all she would feel pressed up against her body- his nose on her neck like ice, and his toes like popsicles on her leg.


	10. Hobby (iowa-tarheel)

**(A/N: Again, from iowa-tarheel!)**

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Hermione loved to read, and that was obvious. It was more than a simple hobby for her- it was like breathing, and eating, similar to how flying was for Harry.

But when he wasn't in the air, he loved to listen to her read. It was almost a hobby for _him._ She would be reading peacefully, alone, and he'd suddenly plop down next to her and lay his head in her lap.

"Read to me," he'd say. No please, no thank you, no choice. She'd roll her eyes, but she'd do it all the same, switching from silent reading to speaking out loud. It didn't matter what language it was in; Latin, French, or even ancient runes.

She'd read, and he'd listen, sharing her favourite hobby.


	11. Nightmare (EndlessChains)

**(A/N: This one's from EndlessChains!)**

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He always tried to play it off, pretend like it was no big deal. When she confronted him in the mornings, he'd pass them off as "bad dreams". Like they didn't matter.

But during the night, when the shudders would grip him and his muscles would spasm as though he were in a fight, she knew it was worse than bad dreams, much worse.

Sometimes it would be the war, and the final battle, and she knew he was seeing the dead bodies of their friends splayed on the Hogwarts steps, mangled and glassy eyed. Sometimes it would be the ministry, and Sirius's last horrible moments, or flashbacks from Voldemor's memory. A few times he was locked back in the airless cupboard under his uncle's stairs, choking on dust and a bloody nose, cold and alone.

Sometimes it would be the maze, dark and endless, or even the old ones of his parent's death, green light and screaming voices.

Hermione held him though them all, murmuring his name while he shook and cried and clutched at her, kissing his swollen scar and lending him her strength until the sun returned.


	12. Naming (EndlessChains)

**(A/N: EndlessChains again. Keep em coming people, really. Doing this is kicking my writer's blocks ass and providing a dumping ground for this fluffy...fluff LOLZ.**

**Once again, they're older here.)**

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Harry liked to get a rise out of Hermione, just for the hell of it. The mood to mess with her would hit him at random moments, and sometimes it made her want to tear her hair out.

"Harry, this is serious!" Hermione huffed, swatting his hand away from her swollen belly in irritation. He rolled his eyes around to her face. "Why? He's not even here yet. We've got time."

"You don't know it's going to be a boy."

"Yes I do."

"Please focus! We need to pick a name."

Harry sighed and leaned his head back against the couch. "I already did- Harry junior. There."

"No."

"Scorpio."

"No."

"Ooh, here's one- Severus!"

"Ew!"

He was laughing by this point, avoiding her fists as she wailed on him.

"Icharus! Krum! Dolores! Fudge! Vernon- ow, ow! Okay, okay!"


	13. Bites (Rated M-ish)

**(A/N: IMPORTANT! This one borders on M rating. This is your only warning, flames will be answered in angry spanish.**

**This is one of mine.)**

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Harry Potter liked to bite.

Before him, she'd never thought that the act of having someone bite her would ever be appealing. It made her shiver, and not in the good way. She'd thought it would be painful and dirty and strange.

After, though...she realized just how wrong she was.

Having his teeth locked on her neck wound her up like nothing else, and if that made her kinky then so be it. The force of it depended on the mood- when they were making slow, tender love (which was rare) he'd nibble and nuzzle her gently; when it was hot, violent, writhing, and he was pounding her into the bed, (Merlin help her, but that's the kind she liked best) he'd sink his canines down into her flesh like a hungry animal, and he had no qualms about drawing blood.

Afterwards though, he never failed to lavish the sweetest licks and kisses on the burning marks, littered all over her skin- breasts, thighs, shoulders- making her whimper and sigh and clutch at his hair.

When they healed, it started all over again, and that might have been the best part.


	14. Sorry (Ev'rdeen)

**(A/N: This one's courtesy of Ev'rdeen!)**

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The words "I'm sorry" apparently burned like acid, because Harry still hadn't said them, despite being on the receiving end of a very chilly Gryffindor shoulder for upwards of two weeks. If he expected Hermione to be over their fight, he was sorely mistaken. Stubborn male pride kept him from apologizing (she could believe quite easily that the sorting hat had meant to put him in her own house), as well as a touch of the Slytherin self righteousness that he was being raised with.

She ignored his notes, his glances and glares in the hallways, his attempts to talk to her, and stayed away from their usual hiding spots.

Eventually, she broke him down, and received a short little letter from Hedwig one morning at breakfast.

_"So, erm... I think that it's time you stopped being angry at me. I mean...maybe I was a little less right than I could have been...and maybe something I said made you overreact. So I guess that's my fault. But holding grudges isn't good for you. And I'm not mad at you anymore, so you should return the favour. If you want, you can be right, regardless of the truth. And I won't bring this up again."_

She wadded the paper up and dropped her head onto the table with a loud groan, unsure whether to chuck it at the back of his stupid head or bust out laughing.

"Slytherins..._honestly..."_


	15. Jealous (EndlessChains)

**(A/N: EndlessChains once again. I'm so sorry I haven't updated Conundrum yet, but finals started and I'm getting hammered with homework. I'll be more regular after the next two days, and I'll probably have the next chapter up by the weekend.**

**Also, REVIEW! More reviews equal happy author, times suggestions plus more chapters squared!)**

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Harry Potter had a jealous streak a mile wide.

Hermione already had and inkling of that from the way he acted whenever she was around Ron.

But ever since Victor Krum had arrived at Hogwarts, his jealousy was through the magical, star speckled roof.

ESPECIALLY since Krum was showing an interest. It was driving him insane, and though she was sure it made her a bad person, Hermione was thoroughly loving it.

"It's just an invitation to Hogsmeade, Harry." she said airily, barely keeping a full blown smile off her face. "Nothing to get worked up about."

"That's not what Pansy and Hestia made it sound like," he growled, glaring darkly at something in the middle distance.

"I thought you didn't care for gossip. It's an OUTING."

"It's a DATE!" he snapped. "With THAT guy, no less."

"What's wrong with Victor?" she asked innocently. "I know he's your competition in the tournament, but he's not really that bad." Hermione countered, holding in her laughter with no small amount of effort. "You two could talk Quidditch!"

"With that prat?!" Harry yelped, scandalized. "He threw the cup, why would I-"

"Harry," Hermione cooed, moving in for the kill. "You make it sound like... Like YOU'RE interested, or-"

The reaction was instant- he cut her off suddenly and loudly. "HA! Ha ha ha, you're, y-youre hilarious." He left quickly after that, leaving her to shake her head and smile, as she so often did nowadays.


	16. Emerald (iowa-tarheel&Ev'rdeen)

**(A/N: This one's a bit of a joining of requests. The title is from iowa-tarheel, and the gift idea is from Ev'rdeen. I hope you guys don't mind that I sort of squished them together.)**

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Hermione stretched luxuriously under her covers and smiled sleepily, savoring the pocket of warmth and familiar smells that surrounded her. Hogwarts was fine and well as her second home, but there was nothing quite like waking up on Christmas morning in one's own bed and hearing your parents bustling around downstairs.

"Mi? Are you up yet, darling?"

Speaking of her parents...

She flexed one last time to pop a stubborn muscle in her back and reached for her slippers before making her way down the stairs to the kitchen. "Morning, mum, dad," she said, pressing a kiss to each of her parents cheeks. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, honey," her mother smiled, giving her a tight squeeze. "We miss you so much when you're away you know, being a magical genius and all that."

"I wouldn't say 'genius', mum," Hermione blushed, trying for modesty.

"Mi, why don't you open your gifts? Breakfast should be ready by the time you're done." her father chimed in from the kitchen. Hermione decided to follow his advice and kneeled by the tree, surveying the inventory. Her brows pulled together as she noticed one that hadn't been there the night before- a small rectangular package wrapped in dark green foil with no bow.

"Mum? Where did...?"

"Right, that one came just as you were getting up." her mother said, eyeing the box. "It was one of those owl post things. Gorgeous bird it was, big and white. I suppose it's from one of your wizarding friends."

Hermione peeled the paper off slowly, heart rate rising with every inhale. A big white owl... There was only one person she knew with a bird like that.

The box inside was unmarked, so when she opened it, she was completely unprepared for the brilliant emerald bracelet that gleamed back at her from the velvet cushion. It was made of silver and crafted to look like a coiled snake, with the green stones set in the scales and eyes. Her breath caught in a shocked gasp- it was GORGEOUS and realistic, sparkling even in the low light from the tree bulbs. It probably cost more than all her other jewelry combined.

With trembling fingers, she picked up the note that had fallen out.

_Dear Hermione,_

_I saw this and knew you'd think of me when you wore it, so I got it for you. I was going to get you a book, but you've read everything so what's the point? Morgana thought it was nice too, so it's serpent approved. She says hello, by the way, and to bring her a mouse. Merry Christmas- tell Weasely he's a prat from me._

_H.P_


	17. Understanding (iowa-tarheel)

**(A/N: Give it up for iowa-tarheel!)**

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"You really think Latin is harder than Parseltongue?" Harry said, quirking one dark brow over an emerald eye. Hermione lifted her nose snootily and crossed her arms, determined not to blush. "Yes, in fact I do. Latin is a dead language."

"How dead is a language when only one bloodline can speak it?" he snorted rhetorically. Hermione narrowed her eyes and gave them a roll. "All I hear when you do that is a bunch of hissing. I bet you can say anything in Parseltongue and make it sound like something meaningful just by making random hissy sounds."

"Seriously? Our SPELLS are in Latin. We learned it in first year. And no, that's not true."

"Prove it!"

"I can't," he smirked, "you wouldn't understand me."

Hermione pursed her lips. "Fine then- teach me."

"What?"

"Teach me Parseltongue, and I'll teach you Latin, and we'll see which is harder."

"No way! I already know Latin."

"No you don't." Hermione grinned and pushed a breath of air through her teeth, sticking her tongue out and making an exaggerated hissing sound. "There. I'm pretty sure I just called you a chicken." Harry grinned sharply, and her stomach gave a lurch. He was on her before she could get away, lips in her hair and teeth grazing her earlobe, making her shudder warmly.

"_Provocatio accipitur, Granger." _ He followed that with the parseltongue translation and ran a warm tongue around the shell of her ear, ragged and smooth all at once that awakened something inside her- part primal fear, part desire.

Hermione bit her lip and reached around to run her fingers through the wispy black hair on the back of his neck, squirming in her seat. "Maybe later though...?"

She didn't understand his answer, but the hungry kiss he descended on her spoke volumes.


	18. Airheads

**(A/N: One of mine. Not the candy, people.)**

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Her fingernails were so deeply entrenched in her palms, there was a good chance that she'd never seperate them from her skin. She didn't even care.

Hermione glared down at her Steak and Kidney pudding, nearly re-cooking the poor food under her blazing brown glare. Her vision was slowly going red, and she could hear a strange whistling in her ears.

_I don't care. I don't care. It's amazing, how much I don't care. I couldn't care less, actually. _

"Harry, you must have been _terrified,_ having to fight that _awful_ dragon." She didn't even have to turn around to see the dramatic swoon.

"Er, I mean, I suppose. I was flying though, so-"

"Oh, Harry, you weren't just FLYING. You were _amazing. _I mean, I knew you were a bang up Quidditch star, but that..."

_I don't care. Words can not express how much I do not care. He can do what he likes, and talk to whoever. I don't care._

_"_And the lake! You were so brave, rescuing that little girl, and Herminniny!"

Hermininny?!

"Oh yes. I'll admit, I was so jealous of them." Cue dumb giggle. "You looked so... I dunno, so _magical_ under there... Sort of ethereal..."

She'd probably been practicing that word all day.

"Well thanks." Titter, titter. She could taste the bile in the back of her throat. She was so DONE.

Slamming her fork down on the table as hard as she could, Hermione reached for her things and stormed out of the great hall. At the Slytherin table behind her, Harry, flanked on either side by a blonde bimbo, didn't even look up to see her go.


	19. Dance

**(A/N: Another one of mine! This one also has a part two.)**

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"I can't believe you're taking a fucking GRYFFINDOR to the Yule Ball!" Draco growled, glaring at Harry murderously over the edge of his book. "And a _mudblood, _no less!"

"Don't call her that," the dark haired boy sighed, more out of reflex than any real hope of discouraging him from using the word. He was lounged in one of the high backed armchairs that adorned the Slytherin common room, absently twirling his wand while Morgana coiled comfortably around his shoulders. "And they said I can choose whoever I want."

"You could have taken anyone else! Honestly, do you have NO sense of social standing?"

"You know I don't care about that crap. Look, she helped me out with the challenges. The least I could do was take her to the bloody ball." Harry said, sounding extremely long suffering.

"You amaze me, Potter." Malfoy drawled, giving his grey eyes the hardest roll. "All those steamy witches practically drooling to be seen on your arm, and you choose..._her_."

"Those witches are as fake as the swelling charms they put on their chests. I don't want a girl who's going to spend the whole night trying to get herself with my baby." Harry snapped, finally getting irritated. "What do you care anyway?"

"I'm just trying to stop you from committing social suicide. But if you don't care, then neither will I."

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The night of the Yule Ball, Harry, in his deep green dress robes, waited for his spur of the moment date to arrive so he could go in. He rocked back and forth on his heels, trying to keep his second thoughts at bay. He'd only really asked her because he needed SOMEONE to take to this damn ball, and he knew she wouldn't think anything of it. If he wasn't a champion he wouldn't even be here right now.

He just hoped she'd at least made an effort to look nice...

"Harry!"

He grimaced as Malfoy strolled up with Pansy clinging to his arm, grinning widely. "Has the mudblood showed up yet?"

"Don't call her-"

"She's probably sobbing herself to sleep right now," Pansy sneered. "I wouldn't expect anything different from the Muggle Beaver of Gryffindor."

Harry's eyes narrowed into icy green slits, making him look more snakelike than ever. He opened his mouth to chew her head off-

"What THE-!? Granger?!"

Every head in the entry hall turned to watch as Hermione Granger descended the staircase. Except...she looked as far from Hermione Granger as she ever had in her life. The lavender dress she wore showed off the previously unacknowledged curves on her frame, clinging to her in just the right places and flowing around her body. The fabric was sheer, allowing light to pass through and surround her in a golden purple glow. The crazy bush that was her hair had been straightened and sleeked up halfway, thick brown curls cascading down onto slim shoulders.

Harry turned to Pansy and Malfoy with the biggest smile on his face, laughing openly. "Not bad for a beaver, huh?"


	20. Dance 2

**(A/N: This is another one of mine, very very late, but I hit a rough patch. Part two of dance, in Harry's POV. Next one is the last Dance, in Hermione's POV because I love the idea of them at the Yule Ball.**

**Leave suggestions! I promise to put them up with your credit!)**

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The music was starting. Merlin, it was beginning...

Harry's mind went blank. He tried to remember all the stupid dance moves Daphne and his aunt had taught him (his _ADOPTED_ aunt, not that muggle bitch with his mother's name), but it was like someone had hit him in the back with Obliviate- everything was gone.

Hell, it was one of those weird slow-but-fast-at-the-same-time mixes, what was he supposed to do?!

"Harry?"

Feet go here, arms go there, not to high but not too low either, he didn't want her thinking he likes her-

"Harry!"

He couldn't see her feet! How was he supposed to know where not to step? Left or right? How long was he supposed to hold her up? What if he dropped her?

"Harry."

He felt like a giant arse, he was going to screw up-

"_Harry_, Merlin. Stop thinking so much. Look at me."

He blinked. Blinked again. Looked. And stopped thinking.

He didn't need to think about his arms suddenly fitting perfectly around the warm curves of her waist, or the way her feet pivoted delicately to avoid his, or the swish of her dress against his body, and the nervous smile on her face (were her teeth smaller than before?)

He didn't need to think, because it was just there, and that was fine with him.


	21. Dance 3

**(A/N: Last part of Dance!)**

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The music was playing. People were pairing up. The floor was starting to clear...the champions had been called.

This was it. Hermione inhaled deeply and tightened her grip on Harry's arm, barely keeping herself balanced on her ridiculous heels. But Harry...Harry wasn't moving.

He looked frozen, like someone had hit him with a nonverbal body bind and silencing charm.

"Harry."

She hissed his name out the corner of her mouth and elbowed him in the ribs. He jumped and grabbed her hand on a reflex, motions mechanical as he led her to the dance floor. What was wrong with him? He'd been fine not two seconds before, shooting smug looks at the rest of his house.

The score began, a mix of fast and slow tempo music.

"Harry?"

His arms were awkward around her waist, stiff and rigid. The dancing began, and it seemed to startle him. His steps were jerky, and he stared down at all times.

"Harry?"

He was mumbling to himself, cursing, face pale and sweaty with a deer in the headlights look.

She almost laughed- he was scared and nervous, something she thought she'd never see in the great Harry Potter. The realization made her heart warm.

"Harry."

Were his hands shaking? They were definitely damp.

"_Harry, _Merlin, stop thinking so much." she whispered, squeezing his arm gently. "Look at me."

He did, finally, and she smiled softly at him, trying to be encouraging and reassuring and confident all at once. It was as if something clicked into place then, like a puzzle piece pushed into alignment. He smiled back, and they spun away in a swirl of green and violet, complicating each other perfectly.


	22. Autograph

**(A/N: One more of mine, and then I'll stop being selfish and put up more requests LOLZ. I just really wanted to do this AU shot (which are totally acceptable, by the way *wink wink nudge nudge*)**

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"Ron, is that the line?" Hermione scoffed, gazing at the mass of people outside the tent in disbelief. It curled twice around and stretched at least a quarter of a mile, not including the people inside the no doubt magically enlarged autograph tent.

"Yes!" the lanky redhead hissed, pulling her forward by her sweater sleeves. Ron had done nothing but very taller since graduation from Hogwarts. Despite their shaky romance that had fallen apart as quickly as it started, they still remained close friends, resulting in Ginny including her in the family VIP pass for the World Cup to watch her team play.

"Ron, we'll be here forever," Hermione moaned. Ron shook his head and gave her a satisfied grin. "Ginny got us the special tickets. We can skip right to the front. I don't care what it takes- I'm getting Mimi Vance's autograph."

Hermione sighed and let him drag her along, giving apologetic glances at the angry people they cut ahead of.

"There she is! MIMI! MIMI VANCE!"

Hermione edged away from him, deciding that she would seperate herself from the embarrassment of watching Ron make a fool out of herself over the pretty Chaser. She wandered around the tent, eventually finding herself facing an even longer line. Unlike Mimi Vance's, this line was mostly full of tittering witches. Hermione raised an eyebrow at the poster, showing a smugly grinning wizard with messy black hair and piercing green eyes.

_"Meet Harry Potter, youngest Seeker in Quidditch!" _Ah, that explained it. Ron hated Potter with a passion- as far as she knew, he was the most popular and best Seeker in Quidditch, and the reason Ron's team had been SMUSHED in the semi finals, and Ginny's ankle was crushed last year. Using his words, Potter was a "slippery, cheating blighter."

"Ohmigoshthereheistherehe_is_!"

Suddenly, she was caught in a surging tide of squealing hormones, pushed and shoved to the front of the line. And there he was, the slippery cheating blighter himself, except he he didn't look like a slimeball. He was...Handsome, lean and fit and currently smirking at her, quill in hand.

"Hello there, little lady."

Hermione bristled and cocked an eyebrow. "Excuse me? I am FAR from a little lady."

His own brows shot into his hairline. "Alright then. What do you want signed?"

She blushed, deflating slightly. "I hadn't, um...I didn't plan on..."

"Paper? Jersey? A poster?" He looked like he was enjoying her embarrassment

"Ah..." The little girls giggled behind her, and Hermione glared at the increasingly unattractive (yeah, RIGHT) Quidditch poser. "No."

"Oh, I get it," he smiled, making anger blossom in her gut. "Where do you want it?"

"What?!" she squawked, starting to sweat. Was it just her or did that sound WAY too personal? And she was NOT slightly aroused, thank you very much.

"Here-" He grabbed her hand and pulled it towards him. Before she could protest and slap him, the cold tip of the quill was scratching gently over her arm, scrawling his name in loopy, careless writing. Goosebumps rocketed up along her skin, making her shudder. His grip was surprisingly gentle. He gazed up at her through a thick fringe of boyish black bangs with a secretive smile, and she nearly moaned, biting her lip as the quill whispered over her flesh.

"There you are," he murmured, giving her fingers a squeeze. He winked at her, and she tore away finally, shaking. Hermione darted over to a post and leaned against it, raising her arm to eye level.

_Harry James Potter, _written permanently into her skin. Her heart fluttered at the sight. Underneath it-

_ I'll be here after the game, little lady. _


	23. Valentine's

**(A/N: I know this is slightly late- Valentine's was yesterday. Whoops! This is set in sixth year.)**

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"I don't know what to get her," Harry stressed, pulling a rough hand through his hair. Theodore watched him pace a rut in the common room floor, smirking at his panic. "You forgot? Draco barely tolerates Pansy, and he didn't forget."

"I don't want to talk about him," Harry fumed, bristling at the reminder of his broken "friendship" with Malfoy. Theo held up his hands in a placating gesture. "Fine, fine. But seriously, forgetting this one to a witch is like forgetting her name."

"There were other things going on, Knott," Harry spat. The smirk didn't leave the boy's face. "Okay, well...what does she like?"

"Books, mostly, but she's read every single one of them. She doesn't like jewels or candy much, or clothes either."

"Have you caught the snitch yet?"

Harry screeched to a stop. "What?"

"You know...'Caught The Snitch'? 'Scored The Goal'?" At Harry's look of bafflement, Theo made a hole in his fist and stuck his finger through obscenely. "Oh..." The brilliant blush was all the answer he needed.

"Here, do this..."

«»«»«»«»«»

"Er, Happy Valentine's day, Hermione..."

"Harry, what...what is-"

_This certificate grants you one night to do whatever your heart desires to one Harry James Potter in bed with no rules or regulations._

"Oh, Harry..." The wicked smile that broke over her face made sweat bead on the back of his neck.


	24. Obliviate (bmatsea)

**(A/N: I'm BAAAACK! Here are some new weekend chapters, and I'm currently working on the next Conundrum. GRACIAS to my VIP's brave enough to leave some, and to those who didn't- DO! I will make them work and you will receive credit! Nothing is turned down!**

**After these requests, the darkness will start, and the pain and angst I know some of you crave. I've held it back LONG ENOUGH, I TELL YOU!)**

**New VIP, this one's from bmatsea!**

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"Slimy tosser!" Ron snarled.

"Coinless bloodtraitor." Malfoy sneered.

"Tit sucking weasel!"

"Dirty tramp!"

"Prissy wanker!"

**_"Obliviate."_**

The two brawling boys blinked, stilled, faces blanking as their pupils widened and contracted. When their vision came back, they started up again, slightly more hesitant than before.

"Get out of my way, Weasely!"

"There's no place I'd rather be less than in your presence, you greasy git!"

"Cross eyed brute!"

"Greasy little-!"

**"_Obliviate."_**

Blink, blink, stare. Blink.

"G-get out of my s-sight, Weasely!"

"There is NO PLACE I'd rather be in less-"

**_"Ob...phhhh...Obliviate..."_**

"G-get out of m-my...ugggn..." Malfoy groaned delicately and pressed a hand to his forehead. "Weasely, just move..."

"I feel like we've done this before..." Ron mumbled, slightly green. "Why do I feel like we've done this before..."

"I don't know, but my head is splitting...please just go away." Malfoy sighed. With one last weak, halfhearted glare, they pushed past each other and went on their way without a word.

Behind the pillar where they were hiding, Hermione grinned triumphantly while Harry trembled with silent, stomach aching laughter next to her, tears rolling down his face. "Well look at that," the Gryffindor girl smiled. "The Obliviate charm CAN be used for behavior modification! I think they're resolving their differences!"

Harry ended the silencing charm he'd placed on himself and pocketed his wand. "And it only took eighteen tries," he snickered.


	25. Embarrasing (andreab182)

**(A/N: This one's from andreab182! High T rating.)**

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Hermione didn't know just what she'd expected from Grimmauld Palace number 12, but it hadn't been the endless cleaning spree, the tepid boredom, or the constant feeling of being left in the dark about EVERYTHING. The whole experience had been hot blooded and exciting at first, hiding out in the secret, undetectable house with the members of the Order of the Phoenix, starting their own rebellion against the dark and the crooked ministry, but those fantasies were fading faster than her limited patience of Kreacher.

She breathed in a huge cloud of dust and coughed wildly for a few seconds after. The adults were downstairs in another top secret meeting yet again, and she was shocked that there was no fighting coming from the room down the hall (honestly, who's idea had THAT been to put Harry and Ron in the same room?), but she was bored to the point that even reading held no interest for her.

A slight fluttering sound near the ceiling made her open her eyes and reach for her wand, expecting another bug or perhaps a stray Doxie, and cocked an eyebrow when the culprit turned out to be a scrap of paper, magically levitated. The Accio spell rose to her lips, but the paper flew straight into her hand without her having to say a word- Banished too, then. She sat up and unfolded it, smiling when she recognized Harry's awful writing.

_**Are you as bored as I am?**_

She huffed and smirked, jotting down a quick response and sending it back to him. _**More so, I'd bet.**_

It was back in seconds. **_Weasely's asleep. I wish you were here instead of him. The conversation's better._**

Hermione pictured him in her head, in his nightclothes with probably still wet hair from the bath, and felt a small shiver trickle down her spine as a naughty though took up residence in her head. They had started shakily and secretly dating around the end of fourth year, and things had slowly but steadily progressed to experimentation stage. A blush rose in her cheeks- _she COULDN'T, SHE wouldn't DARE-_ as an idea formed, and, feeling quite daring, she reached for her quill.

**_Is that ALL that's better, Harry James?_**

It took him maybe twenty seconds, so clearly he was in the same mood she was.

_**Are you trying to get me to come in there, Hermione Jean?**_

_**Depends on what you'd do if you did.**_

It only grew from there. For half an hour they sent messages back and forth, getting progressively dirtier as they both got bolder and more comfortable with it. Hermione was squeezing her legs together and panting hard after a very detailed description of Harry's oral abilities, and she rapidly scrawled a response and Banished it down the hall.

A minute passed, then two, then five, but nothing came back. Frowning, Hermione tried again, and again, to no avail. It was as though he'd fallen asleep.

_**Harry? Are you still there?**_

After a few more agonizing moments, another piece of paper finally made it back. Hermione snatched it out of the air and unfolded it.

**_Dear Harry and Hermione, this is Sirius. The last few messages have been sent to my room- you two need to focus more on where you Banish things next time. And to my darling godson, we need to have a serious talk about where your mouth has been. See you in the morning._**

Hermione buried her face in her pillow and began to immediately suffocate herself, face so red she looked like she was about to burst a vessel.


	26. Fragrance (iowa-tarheel)

**(A/N: Sad little blurb, based off of a Fragrance request by iowa-tarheel. My angst lover seeped through, I couldn't stop it LOLZ.)**

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It hurt to keep wearing it, but Hermione couldn't bring herself to take off the damned cloak.

Huddled underneath it, hidden from the rest of the world by the charms that rendered it invisible, Hermione clutched her knees to her chest and allowed herself to breathe in the smells, the scents, and to remember.

A whiff of something dry and grassy- the Quidditch pitch, hay and marking chalk in her hair from where they'd hidden under the stands from Marcus Flint. Broom polish, from the kit she'd given him for christmas. Treacle tart, his addiction, and she'd rub it off his lip and roll her eyes and say he needed sweet rehab. His shampoo.

She breathed deeper, drawing more air for her silent sobs, and there was the one she'd came for, the slightly dark and tingling scent of male and magical power that had clung to his skin, stayed on her clothes after his reluctant hugs.

She closed her eyes as more tears spilled coldly down her cheeks, and tried to wrap herself more tightly in his smell, tried to pretend that the weight of the cloak on her head was his lips in her hair and that his essence was warm and real, more than a stale echo of scent. The knives in her heart twisted deeper, and yet she couldn't stop breathing, stop smelling him, stop thinking.


	27. Friends (skendo)

**(A/N: Friendship idea from before they were a couple, based off of a request from skendo.)**

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"Is that a muggle magazine?" Harry asked, leaning over her shoulder with furrowed eyebrows. Hermione shrugged and twisted away from his prying eyes, ducking her head to hide the blush rising in her cheeks. "Yeah," she admitted, shifting the _Seventeen_ in her lap. "It's for girls. My mum sent it in the post. I don't really read them at all, but she always tries to tell me I need to do something with my hair."

The skinny Slytherin boy shrugged and bent down to look at it more closely. "It looks dumb."

"Want to take the Friendship quiz?"

"Er...okay."

"Okay...what's my favorite color?"

Harry blinked, tilting his head to the side. "Ugh...Red?"

"Lavender. Let's move on...What do I want to be when I grow up?"

Another blank gaze. "Er...Librarian?"

"Really?" Hermione said.

"What?"

She rolled her eyes and went back to the page. "Nevermind. How many siblings do I have?"

"Uhm...one?"

"I'm an only child!" she yelped, throwing down the magazine in her irritation. "You can't pass a dumb muggle friendship quiz? _Ron _ could have passed that."

"Look, I don't need to know any of that stupid stuff to know that you're my friend," Harry huffed. "You're smart and funny and level headed and nicer than my whole house, so that's all that matters."

Hermione was brought up short at the sudden outpouring of compliments from him. Getting a compliment from Harry Potter was like pulling fresh teeth. "R-really?"

He was blushing too, having heard what came out of his mouth, but he shrugged and nodded. "Y-yeah." Hermione looked down, smiling, and shifted a few inches closer to him until their shoulders brushed just slightly.


End file.
